


The hog

by threleven



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddles, Fluffy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Newt - Freeform, Nightmares, The Maze Runner - Freeform, alternative universe, but he doesn't admit it, cuz angst is always needed, cuz i think that'd look hot af, honestly idk how to tag, i guess, lil bit angst, minewt, minho - Freeform, newt needs a hug, newt wears glasses as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 03:13:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15330483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threleven/pseuds/threleven
Summary: Minho and Newt hadn't had any problems with sleeping together whatsoever. Not until very recently.





	The hog

**Author's Note:**

> I am not James Dashner nor do I own The Maze Runner series or the characters of this oneshot :^)  
> I am not native english speaker either so excuse me and my possible grammar mistakes, I truly tried my best lmao.

Minho and Newt hadn’t had any problems with sleeping together whatsoever. Not until very recently.

 

Sleeping was one of those things Minho and Newt both highly enjoyed doing. Just the thought of having a comfortable bed and warm blankets was enough to make them sleepy. Although napping together was one of their mutual hobbies, their sleeping habits differed a tiny bit. Newt was really bad at staying up late, but he was also bad at waking up early. Minho in the other hand was the one who could easily stay up till the very early hours in the morning and still get up for a jog at what Newt called too bloody early.

 

They had managed to share a bed for six months and no one had had a nosebleed or black eye yet. That was thanks to the fact that neither one of them was a violent sleeper. Minho was the very opposite of that, he slept like dead. It wasn’t a joke when Newt said he barely moved at all when he slept. Newt once had to make sure Minho had a pulse going on when he woke up earlier than him (which was extremely rare) only to find the Asian sleeping in the exact same position as he was when they went to bed. Minho had had a good laugh after hearing that.

 

Although neither one of them threw punches while sleeping, they slept with what was called a safety distance between them. It wasn’t that they did it on purpose or that they didn’t like cuddling – they were cuddle monsters, both of them. Amongst their friends they were known for being all over each other if they had a chance. The reason they didn’t sleep stuck onto each other was just because Newt often went to sleep earlier. By the time Minho went to sleep Newt would be out cold on the very far side of the bed, cuddling with the wall instead. It wasn’t like Minho minded either, they spent the thirds, or even more of their days stuck onto each other anyways.

 

Minho knew that in some relationships there was a party called the blanket hog. It was quite common, and Minho knew it. He also had a few friends, including Thomas, who tended to hog all the blankets during sleepovers, and it was annoying as hell. Minho wasn’t hogging any blankets, neither was Newt, otherwise they would probably have had a plethora of fistfights during the early hours in the mornings over their duvets. They didn’t do that, no, but apparently there was something else to hog, something that was at least as annoying when it happened.

 

So, ladies and gentlemen, let Minho introduce to you, Newt! The boy who had become a terrible, terrible _pillow_ hog.

 

Yes, Minho had noted every now and then that Newt slept without his pillows and hugged them instead. He really thought it was just another thing to add to the “ _Newt’s sleeping habits_ ” list, because Newt also had a habit to ramble in his sleep sometimes, occasionally in his very own language. That was why Minho thought it would make sense that Newt hugged and cuddled his pillows. He was very wrong, he could only wish that was the case.

 

Minho had woken up many times during the nights to find Newt sleeping nice and sound in his self-made pillow fort. It had taken Minho all the effort to fight back the urge to just pull all of the pillows from Newt’s death grip, but he knew better than to do that. A fun fact about Newt: wake him up at night and he could easily choke you and feel no regret. Tell that to someone who didn’t know Newt too well and that could make Newt, the ray of sunshine look like a demon of some kind. Minho had learned to laugh at it though, Newt was quite an entertainment when he was half asleep and annoyed. But instead of taking back his pillow Newt was so passionately holding that night, Minho had just taken Newt’s blanket, rolled it up and used it as a pillow. Newt hadn’t been happy about Minho’s witty solution.

 

The moments when it happened were miserable, but thinking about it afterwards, it was pretty weird, maybe even amusing. At least it was to Minho, because he could understand the thing about hogging blankets. But pillows? It was pretty strange, right? And the very best thing was that Newt couldn’t accept the fact that he was doing it.

 

 

 

“Do you have any idea of what you’re doing when you’re sleeping?”

 

Newt lifted his head from where he was leaning against the counter, dipping a teabag into the cup on his hand. Newt’s morning looks were always quite endearing to Minho; his blond hair pointing to every possible direction, eyes looking pretty lifeless but not really, and those brown framed glasses finishing up the whole look. Minho never forgot to mentally dance in victory when Newt actually wore his glasses, because apparently Newt didn’t find the glasses-look nearly as hot as Minho did.

 

Newt frowned a tiny bit at Minho’s words. “What?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse from sleep. Minho shrugged a little, watching the blond with that slight smirk of his, from which Newt just knew. He had grown familiar with that smirk and he knew to prepare himself. That was because he also knew that Minho was going to bring up something that was hilarious to him, but probably something not so hilarious to Newt.

 

“Do you?” Minho asked as he sipped from his coffee and watched how Newt gave him a rather suspicious look. “I’m pretty sure I…” Newt started, his sentence trailing off as Minho’s smirk widened. Newt’s frown deepened instead. “Can you stop looking at me like that? You look like I give you bloody blowjobs while I sleep,” Newt said, which made Minho nearly choke on the coffee he was drinking.

 

Newt fought against it, but he couldn’t help but smile as Minho had a moment to laugh his ass off – the guy had the most contagious laugh. It would be a literal challenge to try not to smile when Minho was laughing, and Newt had never succeeded. For a moment Newt thought Minho wasn’t going to recover, ever, but after two minutes that felt like fifteen he finally got over it and watched Newt with that stupid grin of his. “That was the best thing you’ve ever said, I’m so dating the right guy,” Minho said chuckling. Newt just shook his head fondly, before he pushed himself from leaning against the counter to find his seat from the other side of the table where Minho was having his morning coffee.

 

“So you have no idea?” Minho asked then, still trying to forget what Newt said a moment ago. “Just spit it out, it can’t be worth that ridiculous smirk of yours,” Newt said, propping his chin against his other arm. Minho hummed shortly, as if he was considering Newt’s words, before nodding. “You’re right, it definitely isn’t, since it’s bringing the inner satan out of me,” Minho said, earning only a snort from the blond before continuing. “You, Newt, have been hogging every single pillow from the bed for couple of weeks now,” Minho said. And really, although it was something that would be considered annoying, he was smiling at it just now.

 

Newt in the other hand just pff-ed, watching Minho with a small smile. “Yeah, sure. Why on earth would I hog the _pillows_?” He asked, the whole thing sounding like something Minho would feed to him just to fuck around. Minho knew Newt wouldn’t admit doing it even if he knew. And he absolutely wouldn’t admit it if he didn’t actually know.

 

Minho shrugged to Newt’s question. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he replied, sipping from his coffee again. Newt was just watching him, narrowing his eyes as he tried to spot the familiar glint of mischief from his boyfriend’s eyes. The one from which he would know Minho was making it all up.

 

“Is little Noot lonely when he’s sleeping?” Minho cooed, reaching over the table to squeeze the blond’s cheeks. Newt lifted his eyebrows before shoving Minho’s hands away. “Shut up, you’re not bloody convincing,” he said with a badly covered smile, as he got up, not forgetting to take his tea with him.

 

“Newt, you’re pulling the most pathetic card by escaping this.”

 

“But you’re not convincing.”

 

“Newt!”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

 

 

When Minho went to sleep that night, Newt was already sleeping just like most of the nights. He had a book on his chest, just like most of the nights as well. If it was getting late enough Newt could literally fall asleep anywhere, whatever he was doing. Once he almost fell asleep while driving a car which was the last time Newt drove them anywhere if they were out late. Minho still hadn’t recovered from the heart attack he got when their car just started to drift alarmingly close to the ditch. He was pretty sure he hadn’t ever screamed at Newt like he did that night.

 

Minho put the book Newt had been reading down on the bedside table and got to the bed shortly afterwards. And now he made a trap by putting the other pillow he had in between them, so Newt was most likely grabbing it instead. Then he just made sure to hold on his own pillow as if his life was depending on it.

 

Newt was really smart, but people weren’t at their best when they were sleeping, right? Newt wouldn’t figure out his poor trap in his sleep.

 

 

Newt _did_ figure out Minho’s poor trap in his sleep.

 

 

Minho woke up not even an hour later to a sound. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but something he swore he heard. He glanced over his shoulder at Newt, but the boy was sleeping soundly. Then he also noticed an ache creeping up from his neck all the way to the back of his head. Not that it surprised Minho anymore, apparently he no longer had his pillow.

 

He groaned, having a quick mental discussion with himself if he really was going to deal with this right now. He made his mind just as quickly though, slowly turning over. Newt was sleeping peacefully with his four pillows. _Four_. Minho almost decided to let it be, which was only because Newt looked really comfortable… but the last thing Minho needed right now was a sore neck, so he had to take some risks here. Reaching over and poking Newt on his forehead it was.

 

It took a few tries before Newt frowned ever so slightly, nuzzling his face into the pillow he was holding in his arms. Minho’s poking finger made its way down on the boy’s nose, until he gave up with that and squeezed the boy’s cheeks together. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Minho watched Newt stirring in his sleep, until he also opened his eyes the tiniest bit, barely at all. 

 

“Newt,” he called softly, not letting go of the boy’s cheeks. Not until Newt grabbed on his wrist and pushed his hand away with a frown. “What?” Newt mumbled, his eyes closing again after realizing that it was nowhere near morning yet. “You stole my pillow. Again,” Minho replied, causing Newt to open his eyes a little bit again. And then, what almost made Minho cry and laugh at the same time was what Newt said next.

 

“You stole it from me first… I took it back.”

 

Minho let out a breath – Newt was being really, really stubborn although he was barely awake. And he was still defending himself, which was pretty impressive if you asked Minho. What was being witnessed right now was the famous act of Newt turning the blame on his innocent boyfriend. “Newt, love, you have four pillows right now.”

 

Newt opened his eyes again. He watched Minho for a short moment, before just mumbled something, letting go of the pillow he so delicately was hugging. Then he just turned on his back and seemed to fall back asleep immediately. Minho smiled, proud of himself as he just succeeded in handling the very sleepy Newt without making the blond destroy the whole building. He pulled the pillow back to himself, and Newt closer as well to wrap his arm around him, and in fact, he had his pillow at himself for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

“So, Isaac Newton.”

 

It was almost a copy of their yesterday morning. The difference was that when Minho sunk on the chair in their little kitchen after a short jog around the blocks nearby, Newt was already there, with a similar look as yesterday, a pen on his hand, filling up a sudoku of some kind on the corner of a newspaper.

 

After Minho sat down though, Newt sighed and dropped the pen, lifting his head to look at Minho. “Minho Park,” The blond replied calmly, because he didn’t need anything else than to hear the way Minho said his name to know what this was going to be about. He rarely got called by his whole name, and Minho used it only if he wanted to be “serious.” And by serious Newt meant an effect Minho liked to use to make whatever he had to say stronger in a way. Minho wasn’t often seriously serious, but when he was, Newt could tell. For example, now Minho wasn’t seriously serious at all.

 

“Did I hog you pillows again?” Newt asked, slowly blinking his eyes which were still a little heavy from sleep. Minho realized that Newt still didn’t believe him, the boy was mimicking him right now in a very mocking tone. But what did he expect? “I swear to god, Newt, if we don’t come up with a way to stop you from stealing pillows then I’m willing to sew my pillow down on the bed,” Minho replied, but Newt only laughed at that.

 

“And I swear to god, Minho, that I’m bloody sure you’re accusing me for nothing,” Newt said, picking up the pen again to continue his little past-time activity. Minho rubbed his face and sighed. “You accused _me_ , your very innocent boyfriend last night. You said I stole your pillow, so you took it back when you already had three of them,” he said, causing Newt to return his gaze.

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“Oh, yes, you did.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

Minho leaned against the table and narrowed his eyes. “Accept the facts, Newt,” He said, only to earn that challenging smirk from Newt, which was probably familiar to everyone who knew that boy. “ _Prove_ me the facts, Minho.”

 

Hell yeah, Minho was so going to prove the facts to Newt. But instead of saying that, he just smirked back at Newt as he got up from his seat. “You know what? Fine,” he said, pecking the boy on his lips, before getting a cup from one of the cabinets of their tiny kitchen. Newt just watched after the Asian, a small smile still playing on his lips, before he went back to the sudoku.

 

 

 

The next morning after a night of grabbing his pillows back from Newt for countless of times once again, Minho woke up to a sudden weight kicking all the air out of his lungs. He didn’t expect such a harsh wake up call, but there, he just got one.

 

“You bloody piece of fuck!”

 

He definitely didn’t expect that either.

 

Then, to top it all off, a pillow was whacked straight on his face. Minho was pretty sure he blacked out for a second or then he just didn’t care to think, but it took him a short moment to realize that Newt had launched himself on top of him and was now beating the living out of him with a pillow. Thank god it was a pillow and not a baseball bat. You never knew about Newt.

 

“Dude! What –“

 

A hit. And another. Minho almost saw his life flashing before his eyes.

 

“Take the bloody post down from your bloody Instagram, asshole!”

 

Oh, that. Now things made a little more sense to Minho as well, thank you very much. But before he even tried to recall the thing Newt was so furious over, he grabbed the blond’s wrists and pried the pillow out of his grip. Damn, that boy had some strength in his hands, Minho was almost sure he was going to rock a black eye if not two.

 

When he was finally sure that no more hits were coming, he dared to open his eyes. And he wasn’t surprised when he was met with Newt who looked like he could actually rip Minho’s spine off with his bare hands. Minho should have felt sorry, but instead he just watched the boy with tired eyes. “Chill, Newt, at least I proved the facts,” Minho said, whacking the boy back on his face with the pillow he just took from him. Bad idea.

 

That naturally led to a short wrestling match of the two fighting over the upper hand. For a moment it looked pretty miserable to Minho, since Newt was still on top of him and really having some kind of hidden strength in those hands of his. The strength he was using a little more than necessary compared to the fact that they had no good reason to get physical with their little fight. But at the end, Minho managed to flip their positions and pin the boy down on the bedsheets from his wrists. And now that he did, he took a moment to breathe.

 

“Holy shit, Newt. Have you hit the gym or something?” Minho asked, watching how the boy just flipped him off. Minho faked offended, before he glanced at his phone on the nightstand. And maybe it was a dangerous move, but he smirked at the blond who was struggling to get free from Minho’s hold.

 

“Still think I was just joking, huh?” Minho asked, causing Newt to glare at him really badly. Just that it wasn’t very effective, not on Minho. “Take it down,” Newt growled, but he didn’t sound like he was seriously mad. If Newt was mad for real, he would be just dead silent. But he wasn’t happy either to say the least. Last night Minho in fact caught Newt the pillow hog in action, so he filmed the whole thing and posted it on Instagram under a caption “facts proven.” His friends thought it was hilarious, but apparently Newt didn’t, not really. But because Minho wasn’t an extreme bully, and believe it or not, a loving boyfriend, he was going to do as Newt wished.

 

“Okay, okay I’m terribly sorry and taking it down, just don’t kill me when I let go,” Minho said, looking for some kind of confirmation in Newt’s eyes. But Newt just watched him, his expression never even wavering, so there wasn’t really anything that would confirm Minho that Newt wouldn’t attack him the second he was going to let go.

 

So Minho took that nonexistent confirmation as a yes, but he held Newt’s right hand tightly down as he reached for his phone.

 

“You didn’t even let go, you ass!” Newt said, grabbing Minho’s hand with his left one, trying to shove it away. Minho shrugged. “I’m intimidated by you,” Minho just said, as he unlocked his phone, glancing at Newt quickly. Newt snorted, rolling his eyes, and there it was! The very tiny smile on the boy’s lips that Minho _never_ missed.

 

Minho got to his Instagram account, but before he deleted the video, he made sure to check the comments from their friends. “Gally says you’re probably possessed,” He said then, laughing a little. Newt just sighed, watching Minho with a look that screamed “just shut up and let me go so I can break your neck.” Minho thought nothing could make Newt look like a demon from some type of horror movie, but now that Minho thought about it, Newt definitely was a little creepy in the video clip. He was sleeping soundly, with his famous frown on his face, and then just randomly reaching for Minho’s pillows, not opening his eyes once.

 

“Just delete the bloody video!”

 

And Minho got a kick on his side. Minho yelped over dramatically, as if the kick had really hurt him, as in reality it was just a soft nudge. Minho was always way too dramatic, so after deleting the video from his account he threw his phone on the bed and narrowed his eyes at Newt. “You disrespected my privacy, you deserve to suffer,” Newt explained, maybe smirking a little at Minho.

 

Minho snorted and grabbed Newt’s other hand again, pinning him back down on the bed. “Are you really picking for a fight right now?” Minho asked. “You’ve been disrespecting my beauty sleeps for two weeks.”

 

“Those sleeps of yours never even made you prettier.” Newt said, his smile having something so mischievous in it right now that Minho knew he was just saying those things as a revenge. “Excuse you, my beauty sleeps are the fountain of youth,” he replied, letting go of Newt’s hands to squeeze his sides, much to Newt’s dismay – he jumped at least a foot in the air. “And you are not in the place to tell me I don’t look better after them.”

 

Newt rolled his eyes, grabbing on Minho’s hands to try to pry them off him. “Yeah, well, I definitely just did, so – ow!” If Minho wasn’t trapping him down just now, Newt would have kicked him hard when he got cut off by a squeeze on his sides, again. And again, and again it went. It didn’t hurt, he just thought that Minho would think so and stop if he made it sound like it actually hurt. But of course, Minho saw right through him and just laughed as Newt tried to poorly curl up despite the fact that he couldn’t.

 

“I’m going to kick you in your bloody face! Stop!” Newt snapped, fighting to push Minho away. “Too bad you’re hurting my feelings,” Minho said, shrugging a little, as he once more jabbed his thumbs into the boy’s sides, making his protests come out spluttered, until they dissolved into an involuntarily laugh. It was all really fun to Minho, to see Newt struggling, but knowing that Newt hated getting tickled to bits, he had some mercy on him.

 

“Don’t you dare underestimate my precious beauty sleeps ever again,” Minho said, as he slid off from on top of the blond, who nearly jumped up from the bed and pushed Minho away. Minho snickered, taking his phone from the bed, as Newt just pouted. “I feel violated.”

 

“I’m sure you do.”

 

“I don’t think I will ever recover.”

 

“Yeah, you went through a lot.”

 

“I want divorce.”

 

“At least I would have my pillow.”

 

Newt let out an exaggerated sigh, watching Minho with a “really” -smile. “My sincere apologies you didn’t get prettier during the last few weeks, I had no idea,” He said, his tone actually sounding more mocking than sorry. “And I’m expecting sincere apologies for posting the damn video,” He continued, making a move to get up from the bed, before muttering, “I’m so going to hear of it from Gally and Thomas.”

 

Minho laughed a little, before he dropped his phone and pulled Newt back from his arm. “Okay, I’m sorry for ruining your imago,” Minho said, pecking the boy on his temple. “But just to remind you, you specifically told me to prove the facts.”

 

Newt couldn’t deny that. “But who told you to post it?” He asked, watching Minho with an inquiring smile. Minho shrugged. “Well, no one in particular, but I wanted it to be a powerful statement,” he replied matter-of-factly, earning just an eye roll from the blond – the one Minho had probably witnessed for tens of thousands of times only during the past few days. Newt was probably pretty done with him by now.

 

But in fact, that was just how their relationship was. One second they would be fighting and calling each other with names and the next second they would be clinging onto each other like an old married couple. There wasn’t a day when they wouldn’t have disagreements over pointless things or something to bicker about.

 

“A powerful statement,” Newt repeated with a nod, dropping his head against Minho’s shoulder. “It worked though,” Minho said with a chuckle, and again, Newt couldn’t deny that either. He had been so sure Minho was just coming up with stupid things, because it wasn’t anything new that Minho and Newt would tell each other stupid things to make the other one flustered. But turned out Newt actually did hog pillows when he slept, and it was really weird too, since he didn’t have a sensible explanation on why he was doing that. He could only imagine how annoying it would be to sleep with him.

 

Newt lifted his head a little, so that he could see Minho. “So no filming me when I’m sleeping, got it?” He asked with a smile. He would be more than happy to pay back and secretly film Minho as well, but too bad he had too good gifts of sleeping.

 

“I promise you can sleep at peace.”

 

 

 

It was one of those nights when Minho and Newt had started to watch a movie from the tv. Usually their movie nights would end with Newt drool-sleeping on the couch and Minho finishing up the movie alone. That was happening again. Minho didn’t mind, but he always had to fill Newt in about the end of the movie afterwards.  

 

Newt had lied down on the couch a while ago and was now leaning his head on Minho’s thigh. They were somehow sharing a woolly blanket, and Newt had curled up under his half of it almost completely. He was definitely sleeping, Minho could tell from his deep, evened out breaths and lack of the comments Newt usually liked to make about the movies they watched.

 

When the movie started to get to its end though, Minho’s eyes started to droop as well. The movie was lacking something when Newt fell asleep, but if Minho had hard time staying awake, then the movie was straight up bad.

 

Minho yawned, and fought to keep his eyes open to see the ending of the movie. If he fell asleep now, then the fact that he didn’t know how the movie ended would bug him. Five more minutes and the movie would end, but it only took one for Minho’s eyes to shut. And when his eyes closed, he felt how New started to tug the blanket. Before he got his eyes open to see what was going on, it was Newt who woke up with a jolt and a gasp so sharp Minho almost felt it aching in his own chest. His eyes no longer felt heavy when they snapped open, and he swore he jumped at least as hard as Newt. He turned to look at the blond who was now watching around with wide, sleepy eyes.

 

“Holy shit,” Minho breathed out, sitting up properly. Newt took in a deep, shaky breath, letting go of the blanket he had gathered into a bundle and was clutching in his hands. “Newt, what’s wrong?” Minho asked, pushing the blond locks of hair from Newt’s forehead, which he noticed were damp.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, just a… dream,” Newt mumbled, stretching his arms a little, yawning. Minho was watching the boy with a tiny bit of worry shadowing his face. “Just a dream, huh?” He just asked, clearly anticipating something. Newt let out a short breath, sitting up properly and rubbing his face. “Just a dream.”

 

Minho wasn’t buying that. He watched how Newt leaned his arms against his knees, the uncomfortable frown never vanishing from his face. Otherwise he looked pretty calm, his acts the same as any other night when he was three seconds from falling asleep. It was just that his eyes were glancing around in a frantic kind of way, as if he was making sure he was awake.

 

“Hey,” Minho said softly, which caught Newt’s attention. Now that was one of the moments when Newt could tell that Minho was dead serious. “Talk to me, will you?”

 

Newt couldn’t lie to Minho, he didn’t know why he even tried. “It’s just a stupid dream, not a big deal,” Newt said, rubbing his left arm a little.

 

“What kind of dream?”

 

Newt straightened his back, taking a deep inhale. “You’re not going to drop this one, are you?” He asked, lifting his head a little to look at Minho. The Asian shook his head slowly, his expression something so serious that it could make someone feel intimidated. But Newt felt better. He felt cared. He knew that Minho was ready to listen to him and whatever he had in his mind, whether it was stupid or not. That’s what Newt loved about Minho. He always wanted to at least try to understand, although there were times when Minho just couldn't grasp on what was going on inside Newt's head. But he always tried, and that meant a lot to Newt. So, Newt told him this time as well. From the very start, missing no scene.

 

“It always starts at the point where I wake up in the middle of a huge, huge square… It’s a weird feeling to wake up in a dream because it kind of makes it feel so – too real,” Newt started, picking his nails. “It’s a huge square where I wake up, and all I can see is grass and grass and more grass, and then there’s like four massive walls surrounding the whole place.”

 

It sounded pretty bizarre to Minho, he couldn’t quite make an image out of what Newt was telling him. But what he knew was that Newt wasn’t going to describe anything that would match with a  _just a stupid dream_.

 

“It would be a little dark, as if the sun had just went down. I’m all alone there, and all I can hear is weird screeching of metal and the sound of stone scraping against stone, you know?” Newt continued then, watching somewhere to the ceiling, as if he was trying to recall the very details of his dream. “As if something extremely huge is being moved behind those walls.”

 

“And that’s not even the scary part, really. The place looks almost peaceful. Then, four huge doors open on each one of the walls, and that’s where it gets scary. The doors reveal nothing else but pitch darkness, and every single time I can hear how the screeching starts to come closer from those doors. From every single door. And when you’re standing in the middle, it kind of puts you into the most terrible panic when you know that you’re all alone and there’s nowhere you can really go and hide… am I making any sense?”

 

Minho was just watching Newt with a small frown; the movie and it’s now rolling ending credits long forgotten for that moment. “That sounds pretty terrifying, honestly,” He said, getting just a nod from the blond. “Right? But every time the sounds get close enough that I could actually see what’s coming, I wake up, feeling like I’ve been holding my breath for hours… and it happens just about every night.”

 

Minho couldn’t believe he hadn’t woken up to _Newt_ waking up from a nightmare. “Why haven’t you told me?” Minho asked, since the whole thought of constantly waking up from a dream like that was enough to give him chills. Newt just shrugged at the question. “Haven’t seen a point to wake you up – I always just continue sleeping. Not a big deal, like I said, it’s just a stupid dream after all.”

 

“A damn frightening one,” Minho said, rubbing his head a little. “Man, I actually feel horrible for being so oblivious,” he continued. Newt just laughed a little, shaking his head. “Don’t feel bad, it’s not like I see them every single night and that I would be afraid of going to sleep.” Honestly it was a relief to hear that, but Minho still couldn’t believe that he just never noticed. “I swear I would normally wake up if I heard you waking up from a nightmare.”

 

“Mm, you’ve woken up quite a few times though... but I didn’t want to bother so I just went back to sleep,” Newt said then, even chuckling a little to what he said. It really was a relief that Newt didn’t find the whole thing as frightening as Minho did. He was literally laughing at the fact that he sees same nightmare again and again. But the thing Newt just said…

 

“Wait, wha – are you telling me that I’ve woken up, but you have pretended to be asleep? Newt, what the hell, I mean, how stupid are you?” Minho asked, watching the blond in disbelief. Newt just frowned back at him. “What? Chill, mate, I didn’t say I’ve been bloody pretending, I’ve actually fallen right back asleep after waking up.”

 

“Yeah? You sure about that one?”

 

Sometimes Newt hated that he couldn’t lie to Minho. “You’re literally worrying for nothing.”

 

“But, I don’t get it, Newt, why do you think you’re supposed to deal with that kind of stuff alone?” Minho asked, having a little hard time understanding Newt’s way of thinking. Newt shrugged, never breaking the eye contact they right now had. Minho could see how Newt was getting a tiny bit fed up with the conversation. “Because I feel like I can deal with stuff like that alone, it’s just a bloody dream,” Newt replied, or more like snapped, his voice having an undertone in it which told Minho that Newt was in fact getting fed up. The tired Newt's temper was able to go from zero to hundred in a second, and he seemed to notice it himself as well. Not wanting to fight about such a thing, Newt took a deep breath, and sunk back into the couch. As much as Minho wanted to push it and make Newt understand that he really didn’t have to deal with it alone, he decided to leave it for a moment, for the sake of peace.

 

“Sorry… It’s just not a big deal, not worth of worrying about,” Newt said after a moment, his voice notably quieter. Minho lifted his head to look at him. “It lasts only for a short moment too, so not much time to have a panic attack for being in there all by myself with some monsters lurking around in the dark.”

 

“Do you feel lonely?” Minho asked, carefully trying to dig just a little deeper. He remembered asking that same question that one morning, but only as a joke. It had really been just a joke, and it was crazy – he didn’t actually mean it for real, but now that he thought about it again, it would kind of make sense that Newt searched for protection and ended up hugging the pillows.

 

“No, I wouldn’t call it feeling lonely.”

 

“What would you call it then?”

 

“I don’t know… feeling alone.”

 

Newt maybe called the dreams stupid, but Minho would consider dreams like those as the worst types of nightmares. Just imagine seeing a nightmare that kind of takes your breath away, and you keep seeing the same dream night after another, every time in the exact same way. It would drive Minho crazy.

 

Newt’s nightly behavior was definitely an alarm of him seeing nightmares, Minho believed. And yet he always thought it was just a habit, as well as blanket hogging was. But thinking about it, it would definitely make sense that Newt hugged pillows as if his life depended on them because he just needed something to hold onto to feel less alone when he dreamed about terrifying things. That also made Minho remember the night when he tried to wake Newt up to get his pillow back. The thing about that night was that after getting over with it nice and peachy, Minho had pulled Newt closer to hug him. And Newt did in fact lose his interest in the pillows for the rest of the night. It actually did make perfect sense.

 

“Do you think you know where those dreams are coming from?” Minho asked, reaching his hand over to push the golden strands of hair from the boy's clammy forehead. He knew that Newt hadn’t always had things the easiest with his mental health, and he wouldn’t wonder if the dreams Newt had had something to do with stress or something. School occasionally did put people under pressure after all.

 

“Maybe stress, I’m not sure. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

Minho nodded, sighing a quiet “I know.” Newt had told Minho before that whenever he was dealing with stress, he could barely sleep at all. And when he actually slept, his dreams got really bad, so he woke up and just stayed awake for ridiculous amounts of time. Now he had no problems with falling asleep, but his dreams had started to haunt him again. “Just please don’t keep it at yourself if it gets bad. That won’t do any good and you know that.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Newt replied, then watching Minho with an expression that looked almost amused. “Don’t you worry about it too much either, because that won’t do any good and you know that,” he said, causing Minho to let out a small laugh.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

So when they went to sleep that night, Minho got under the covers and pulled Newt from the other side of the bed next to him, which Newt happily accepted. Newt leaned his head on Minho’s shoulder, nosing the crook of his neck. He definitely had missed this, not that they hadn’t been cuddling in ages. He wrapped his arm around his boyfriend, closing his heavy eyes. He had always enjoyed sleeping, yes, but it had taken a tiny turn after his rather scary dreams. It wasn’t that that they bothered him, not a lot that is to say, but he had definitely been a little nervous about falling asleep for the past week or so. He just hadn’t ever really thought much about it. But now, having Minho there right against him made Newt feel a clear difference. He felt at peace, unlike the other nights. Falling asleep like that caused no problems either. Newt felt like he was the luckiest, having an understanding and caring person like Minho next to him.

 

They rarely spent time separated from each other, and the only times they actually were out of contact were the nights. And the nights seemed to be the times Newt needed contact the most. It was quite sad, actually, that Newt unconsciously hugged pillows to feel even a little better. Minho wanted Newt to feel safe when he was sleeping, so he made a mental reminder to hold Newt no matter how much later he went to sleep. Only when Minho knew that Newt slept well he could relax.

 

That night Newt didn’t have to squeeze any of the pillows on the bed, not even his own one. A  _someone_ to hold onto when he was the most vulnerable to his own imagination and thoughts had always been the only thing he had needed. And it had always been there just a few inches away, right next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> So, just an idea I've had, you're welcome. Chose to write about minewt since I (love them) could imagine them doing this lol. And I'm also madly in love with the ship so.  
> If you want to (and because I'm obviously begging you to), let me know in the comments what you think ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> oh, and did I mention I worship minewt?


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